


Parted From Me, but Never Parted

by anaellefire



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: But maybe that will work out?, F/M, Major character death - Freeform, Marriage, Pregnancy, Sort of AU, Still Cannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1307461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaellefire/pseuds/anaellefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Spock had never changed his mind, and Nyota died on the Farragut? What if Nyota lost Spock instead? What if two broken people, who lost each other, meet by a twist of fate? Rated M for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this fic up at FF for a while and am just now putting it over here as well after a recent update. Nothing is beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

**Stardate 2260.42**

**Spock**

His loss was immeasurable. He had visited his mother’s grave earlier that morning where she rested peacefully under a tree in a family plot in Minnesota. It was illogical to speak to the polished granite, but he felt the phonemes of Vulcan rolling off of his tongue anyway. He spoke quietly of his impatience towards the Enterprise’s upcoming 5-year tour; he needed to be busy again, to have work keeping his mind off of things. He told her of the improvements Sarek was making with the colony on New Vulcan. He described the planet’s flora and fauna and eventually admitted how they would have pleased her. He bowed his head and a light breeze passed over him. When his emotions and senses were back under his control, he bent to place a bouquet of roses, the very ones she cultivated from her garden, against the headstone.

Idly, he straightened the green wrapping paper as he clutched his second bouquet of flowers on the transport back to San Francisco. Attempting to reform the decorative paper back to its original state was futile, he knew, but the distraction was most welcome. The transport reached its destination just outside the city and although Spock tried not to look, the gates above read “Starfleet Memorial Cemetery, The Battle of Vulcan”. He was desperate to avoid reliving his first journey there; so instead, he forced his eidetic memory to remember everything but the thousands of markers in front of him. The cliffs were 16.98 meters high. He was exactly 33.15 kilometers from the Golden Gate Bridge. The temperature was a balmy 50.2 degrees. Finally, his gaze rested upon the memorial. It was a sculpture of Mount Seleya and when viewed at the proper angle, it seemed to be rising out of distant cliffs. He had an instant recall to the silhouette of the actual mountain, no longer in existence. Memories started to swell of his time under the landmark’s shadow, and he quickly forced his feet to carry him inside where rows upon rows of white markers covered the ground. His destination was in the 57th row, the 89th headstone down.

He stood in front of the marker, as stoic as ever. _Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, USS Farragut 2233.228-2258.42_. His heart rate elevated 8.3%, his throat felt dry, and the hollowness left in the wake of their severed bond resonated within him. Despite thinking he had made peace with her untimely passing, the emotions of what she meant to him burst through his mental walls. He wanted closure more than anything, and by doing so, successful completion of _kolinahr_.

She was his most gifted student, and the most proficient aide he had ever had. He was surprised when she asked him to dinner the moment they were no longer teacher and student, and he was humbled by the love that grew between them. As if she were still with him, he could hear her hearty laugh, smell her jasmine scent, and feel the coolness of her body. Heat flushed his cheeks and he found himself crouching over her grave, a hand resting against the cool crevices of her name on the headstone in _ta’al_. Like a true Vulcan, his face never revealed the emotions warring beneath his fragile surface.

Theirs was a fledgling bond; he did not have the opportunity to declare _koon-ut so’lik_ , and although he mourned the loss of what their _tel_ could have been, he was grateful that his _bond-sickness_ was not as debilitating as it would have been, had they been formally married. Allowing himself this last moment of weakness; he told her that he loved her, he missed her, and asked forgiveness. The bouquet of his mother’s lavender roses were a stark contrast to the white marble of her grave. He bore the weight of his refusal to change her station on his shoulders. It was his decision that cost her life; one of which he will never forgive himself. In a deep breath, he rose and headed back to his apartment. He planned to complete his purge of emotions that night during his meditation.

He moved through the motions, walking down his building’s hallway, opening his front door. His muscles guided him to where he needed to go, but his mind was elsewhere. He went to his closet, carefully removed, folded and hung his uniform, and donned his meditation robe. The strike of the match to light his _asenoi_ was the only sound to break the silence. In some ways, Spock was grateful that he began _kolinahr,_ he was able to face her grave without falling to pieces; on the other hand, he was hesitant to complete his training; to finally let go of emotions would also mean that he would purge the feeling of his love for Nyota and the tickle of her love for him. He would also have to let go of his guilt, but that was one thing the human side of him simply would not do.

He struggled for control and could feel his approach to the completion of his emotional cleansing. Slowly, feelings were fading away. Spock had been training for the last two years, and finally he would achieve completion. He held such discipline; there was no sense of satisfaction, just a logical acceptance that he had finally mastered—

His steady breathing hitched… A feeling, a connection—something he hadn’t experienced since _Va’Pak,_ The Immeasurable Loss—suddenly began to buzz within him. The sensation was so faint; Spock nearly rationalized it as a side effect of his logical enlightenment. It broke through his resolve, however; a peace settling over him, he felt… whole again. It fluttered within him, a deep sadness pulsing through his _kolinahr_. Spock was flooded with anguish for which he found no logical explanation. He came out of his meditation and concentrated on the feeling. _A bond?_ Abruptly, his com alerted him to an incoming call.

“Mr. Spock.”  
“Yes, Captain?” He approached the terminal, hands clasped behind his back, and gazed into energetic eyes of Captain Kirk.

“There was a space anomaly-- a lightning storm-- recorded on the outskirts of Federation space near the Klingon Empire. And considering our history with such an anomaly, Starfleet has requested that the Enterprise investigate.” A haughty smile played across the captain’s face. “We leave at 0600 hours.”

Spock glanced at his chronometer, it was 0530. “At what time was the anomaly reported?”

“Within the past ten minutes, Spock.” Jim ran a hand through his hair. “Half an hour, will you be there?” One of Spock’s eyebrows rose into his bangs. _Interesting,_ he noticed that was approximately the same time he became aware of the mysterious sensation.

“Yes Captain, I shall meet you at the docks.”

“Good. I’ll see you there. Kirk out.”

The transmission ended, and Spock turned. He resumed his cross-legged position in front of his fire pot, palms together at his chest. He could make it to the shuttle in 10.78 minutes; he decided to use his spare time to test his hypothesis. His gaze was far away as he reflected on the idea that the feeling could be a bond. He began to prod the connection, lowering his mental shields so that he would only be on the receiving end. Yes, it was a bond, although feeble, it puzzled him greatly. He had not bonded with anyone in 2.64 standard years, thus he could not reason the source of the connection or its sudden occurrence. Such a thing was impossible to form without his participation. He continued to explore the fragile connection; it opened readily to his advances. Unexpectedly, he was in an immeasurable amount of agony and heartbreak. As soon as those painful emotions crossed into his psyche, he severed the connection. The emotional transference caused his eyes to burn, and Spock realized he was on the verge of tears. With a few ragged breaths, he regained control over his body. The occurrence was similar to the _tel-has-mar_ he experienced two years ago, but this was much more damaging. It nearly caused him to cry. Sensing the time, Spock ignored the bond and quickly packed his things.

* * *

**Stardate 2264.155**

**Nyota**

“ _Nyota, ashayam, the needs of the many out-weigh the needs of the few.”_ She buried her face in his chest, trying to hold back her hiccups. Spock’s chin came to rest against her head, and his warm fingers brushed against her cheeks before they met her psy points; instantly, Nyota could feel the calm he sent her, his comfort, his acceptance, his love.

“ _Adun, do not leave me. I need you.”_ His sorrow seeped into her, but she could feel his resolve.

“ _Nyota, the ship has been compromised, Captain Kirk is dead… As Acting Captain, it is my duty to ensure the safety of the crew and their families. The trajectory of the Enterprise is heading towards an unstable container of volatile red matter. The possibility of debris colliding with the material is 99.87%. Implosion is imminent. If you do not jettison within the next 65 seconds, it is likely that your pod will be caught in the gravitational pull of the singularity.”_

She felt numb. Explosions, alarms, and screams had her ears ringing. She couldn’t think straight. These were her last moments with her husband; she was in a fog. “ _I do not want you to die alone.”_ A lump rose in her throat and she choked. Nyota hadn’t realized that Spock was gently guiding her into the open pod until her back came in contact with the soft padding. He began to secure her safety straps, placing delicate kisses on her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth. She didn’t have the energy to fight him so she could stay by his side.

“ _I am never alone, my Nyota. Your katra and mine are one. Dahshal s’ash-veh heh worla dashal._ 1” Sensing that their time was swiftly dwindling, his mouth found hers in passionate heat. His left hand trailed through her hair, and joined their minds, while his right hand linked with hers in the _ozh’esta_. His love poured into her, giving her courage.

/ _We will meet again, in this life or another./_ Nyota began to calm, finding her strength as his hand left hers and began caress the ticklish planes of her abdomen.

“I love you, Nyota.” His words were rushed, and their last kiss was quicker. She was shocked by his admission. He began to back away, and all she could do was stand frozen in front of him, eyes searching his, tears starting anew. He let go of her hand and triggered the doors. When she registered the deafening silence of the pod, she broke apart. Crying freely, she placed her hand against the small window where she could still see Spock’s face. Tears threatened to stream down his green-flushed cheeks as he placed his hand in the _ta’al_ to hers. / _An unparalleled linguist, and I have rendered you speechless. I shall take pride in that._  /She felt his musings and gave him a weak smile.The pod jettisoned, and though she could feel their bond stretching with their distance, his calm continued to flow to her. Space was quiet. Cold. Lonely. She watched the ship through the door’s tiny window. A blast from behind the Enterprise propelled her capsule towards the bridge. Nyota felt comfort in being able to see the light coming through the viewing panel. The silhouette of his frame gave her solace.

As she drifted with the refuse of battle, she mourned. She mourned the loss of her friends, of her fellow crewmates, of the people she had held dear during their five year mission. Yet, she did not mourn Spock. She refused to. He was still here. She could still see him. Instead, as she drifted farther away, she mourned their future, the family that they would have had. She mourned the feeling of excitement they would have shared at being first-time parents. She doubled over at the loss. She wanted more than anything to experience that with him, to see him become a wonderful father to their children. She was determined to carry out the rest of her days to her best ability. She knew that he would want that for her, would want her to be happy. But there would never be another.

Suddenly, she felt a panic and broken thoughts flowed to her. / _The red matter./_ Through their bond, she was able to figure out what he had meant. In the explosion that propelled her forward, the red matter now rested between her pod and the Enterprise. She didn’t understand the need for his worry, until movement caught her eye. Slowly, but surely, debris made its way through the wreckage; silently bumping through scattered parts and scrap pieces. Her heart pounded in her ears as she watched it creep towards the container. Their bond churned a sickening acceptance, an emotional bracing for what was about to come. Her eyes shot towards the bridge, Spock’s shadow sat in the captain’s chair, and suddenly…

White. Everything was so blindingly bright around her. The pod lurched as a wave of energy pushed her deeper into space, farther from the red matter.

Instantly she felt it. Pain. Agonizing Pain. She screamed and screamed, squeezing her head, desperately trying to make it go away. To make it stop. Desperately wishing to go back in time and change their fate. She could feel the blood running out of her nose, hot liquid dripping over her lip. Their bond had severed. She was overwhelmed by his death and Nyota succumbed to the pain of his loss, slipping into unconsciousness. As she slumped against the restraints, she was unaware of the blackness beginning to surround her.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 1

“Mr. Sulu,” the captain began as Spock came to stand next to him. “What’s our ETA?”

“T-minus three minutes until we reach the anomaly,” replied the helmsman.

Spock stood with his hands clasped behind his back, noting the passage of time. When the Enterprise came out of warp, everyone turned to the view screen. An oddly familiar sight, it left them feeling slightly uneasy. Blue light danced across the sky, emanating from an immense black hole. “Huh. Would you look at that? Spock, scan the area. We don’t want any surprises. Shields up, Mr. Sulu.”

“Captain,” Spock began, leaning over his console, “it appears that we are encountering the same type of singularity as we did during our dealings with Nero.” Jim turned to face him, an expression on his face that could only describe the seriousness of Spock’s diagnosis. It portrayed solidarity for the loss experienced at the hands of the ruthless Romulan. A flash of white light brought their attention back towards the storm. The black hole was gone.

“Captain, there is a vessel!” The technician magnified the image on the viewscreen.

“What…?” Jim rose from his seat and crossed his arms, looking what one could only explain as utterly confused. The identification on the vessel read “USS Enterprise NCC-1701 #16”. A small flashing light could be seen blinking above the door. “Are we missing any escape pods?”

“No, sir, all are accounted for… including pod 16.” Spock’s ears began to burn at the reply. He was well acquainted with the consequences of black holes. He is, after all, the only being capable of being in two places at once.

“Well, that’s weird. Lieutenant Hannedy, hail the pod.”

“Sir, the pod’s short subspace communications capabilities are active, yet there is no response.” Inexplicably, Spock began to feel ill… was this a _gut feeling_ , the human intuition of which his mother often spoke? He decided it was best to inform the captain of his suspicions.

“Captain, considering the knowledge we gained from our previous experience with such an occurrence, it is a possibility that this vessel is in fact from the Enterprise, just not from this particular reality.”

“Well, if it’s a fellow crew member, it’s our duty to help them back aboard…” He paused to think for a moment, his hand coming to rest on his chin. Jim turned back to Spock with concern on his face. “Besides, if they did travel through time in a black hole, and only one emergency pod made it here, it could be that their ship is gone.”

“A logical observation, Captain.” Kirk nodded, exhaling with a sigh and placed his hands behind his head. He walked back over to his chair and pushed a comm. button. He called for a transport ship to be fueled and readied, then he called Dr. McCoy.

“Bones, we’ve encountered an escape pod from the Enterprise. It’s possible that the passenger will need medical assistance, so you will accompany me and Spock to retrieve it. Meet us at the ship.” He turned and pointed at the helmsman on his left, “Mr. Sulu, you have the con. Alright, Spock, let’s go get ‘em.” Spock steeled his emotional walls as the captain’s hand expectedly came into contact with his shoulder. Slowly, but surely he was becoming adjusted to the emotional displays of the captain.

* * *

It took them only 15.7 minutes to reach the pod and marginally less time to properly and safely load it onto the ship. When the integrity of the ship was restored and breathing capabilities reestablished, they turned to the small vessel. Its metal casing was scathed and scorched in areas. As Dr. McCoy initiated the opening code on the door’s computer, the most unsettling sensation spread through Spock. For the first time in his life, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The door opened in a hiss and Dr. McCoy began rambling that the date on the computer was from the year 2264.

Spock hardly heard the doctor, however. As the door slid back, his heart established an anxious arrhythmia. Jim Kirk had ceased breathing next to him, “She never even told me her name.” His ears registered Jim’s statement the moment the delicate cadences “Nyota” rolled in a whisper from his lips. The two looked at each other with wide eyes. An intrigued look came over Jim’s face, but just as he opened his mouth, Dr. McCoy thankfully stepped around to see the pod’s occupant.

“Son of a bitch!” the doctor exclaimed, shoving the inert onlookers out of the way. As the doctor’s fingers checked for a pulse at her carotid artery, he cast a hard stare at Spock and the Captain. “Jim, you get your ass up to that con and you fly us back, stat. We’ve got a nice young lady in critical condition that I won’t let die because of your voyeurism.” The captain nodded and ran to the front of the vessel, leaving Spock alone with the doctor and the young woman in the pod. “80 over 55, damn, her blood pressure is bottoming out, and her pulse is through the roof.” He continued to run his scanners over her body.

Spock remained a courteous distance away from doctor and patient. Available when needed, but understanding the space required for proper treatment. A red operations regulation uniform clung to her slim body, there were no outwardly observable injuries, yet blood was visibly dripping from her nose and ears, its iron scent was flooding his senses. Her infrequent breaths came in shallow quivers. Her eyebrows were drawn and her lips slightly pointed down, expressing pain on her unconscious visage. The doctor’s scans were inconclusive to any physical injury, so he moved to her head. He pulled a white handkerchief from his back pocket, and gently dabbed at the red fluid at her nostrils. Dr. McCoy tensed up.

“Son of a—Jim!! Drive it like you stole it!” He turned to Spock, “Spock, go to the cabinet over there and grab a bag of saline, a rubber tourniquet, and an intravenous catheter.” Dr. McCoy then lifted Lieutenant Uhura’s limp body onto the empty medic bed they had on standby, slightly shaking her frame and calling out to her. “Uhura, can you hear me?” Nothing. He gave her sternum a rough rub. A soft whimper was the only response. Spock handed the necessary equipment to the doctor, his breath elevated in a rapid rise and fall in his chest. He looked at the handkerchief, discarded by the padding of the pod; the red droplet of her blood was surrounded by a pale fluid and its presence seemed to be what agitated the doctor.

“Doctor, would you please clarify the nature of the Lieutenant’s condition?”

“I found no trace of physical injuries, yet she’s leaking CSF like a fountain and hypotensive. She’s showing stages of shock, but without a physical injury and the presence of CSF, I’m going to have to say she’s experiencing neurogenic shock. Wrap that blanket around her, will ya? She’s losing body heat.” Spock quickly came and placed a heavy white blanket over her small frame, careful not to touch her. Her once rich, brown skin now looked pale and sickly under its clinical hue. Meanwhile, Dr. McCoy placed a tourniquet around her forearm, inserted a needle into the vein on the interior side of her elbow, and attached the catheter to the IV drip. “Hold this,” he said, handing Spock the bag of fluids.

Dr. McCoy moved to the side of the bed and entered a command. As the foot of the bed began to rise, he turned back to Spock. “I knew about you.” Spock’s eyes narrowed and an eyebrow rose below his bangs. The doctor portrayed nothing but empathy as he adjusted the flow rate. “Spock,” he began, “she had certain… contraceptive requests that she came directly to me about, instead of giving the best gossip to the academy pharmacists.”

“I am grateful for your discretion, Doctor.”

“Boy, this really blows my mind. I can’t even begin to imagine what this is like for you.”

Spock’s eyes glazed over and he glanced down to the fragile human. “I was aware that it was a possibility that we would encounter a fellow crew member, but I was not expecting…” He looked back at Dr. McCoy. “During our experience with Nero, a much older version of myself, a future version if you will, was transported to our reality and helped Jim and Mr. Scott.”

“You’re kidding me. So where is he now?” The doctor’s hands crossed over his torso as he leaned against the rails on the bed.

“It is no jest, Doctor. Currently, he is serving as ambassador to New Vulcan so that I may continue my career in Starfleet.”

“Well I’ll be.” One of his hands grasped his chin in contemplation, and then he asked the one question that was burning in Spock’s psyche. “So, do you think it’s really her?”

Spock’s breath hitched for a moment, and they made eye contact. “The answer to that question is one that I could easily verify.” Dr. McCoy nodded and took the IV bag from him.

“Are you going to… use your Vulcan mind powers on her?”

Spock tilted his head in confusion; the doctor was clearly misinformed, regardless… “No. I would not risk such contact since she is unconscious and we are unaware of the true nature of her injury. Leakage of cerebrospinal fluid is a consequence usually brought on by head trauma or illness, yet as your scans have proved, she has experienced none of the sort. It is logical to determine that her injuries are thus neurological in nature.”

“Riiight.” Spock leaned over her torso, a shaking hand reached for the collar of her uniform. “So what are you doing, then?”

“In this reality, we were nearly bonded. If any of her history involved me during her final years at the academy, she would bear a mark, regardless if such a relationship ceased to exist years later in her reality.” Slowly, he pulled back the fabric. There it was; a dark oval mark was visible at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Spock’s clinical resolve seemed to break. He stood there, completely frozen at his confirmation. A hollow ache formed in his stomach and he could feel that his swelling tongue was on its way to occlude his airway. Fortunately, Jim announced that they had arrived and as the doctor and captain lead the biobed out of the shuttle and towards medbay, Spock remained immobile, and was rooted in place. All the pain and guilt he had been repressing now jumped to the foreground and mixed with elation. The combination was sickening, but he regained a sense of control over himself and headed straight towards the medical center.

The captain and Dr. McCoy stopped talking as soon as he rounded the corner and they both turned to look at him. “Spock,” Jim began. “Bones here has brought me up to speed with our situation. I know that you’re emotionally invested in the Lieutenant, but I need you to complete your shift tonight regardless. We can rearrange your schedule to work things out later, but I need you on the bridge tonight. Now, Bones has a few more things to talk to you about, but I just wanted to say for the record, as hard as I tried, she never gave me the time of day.”

“Comforting.” His deadpan reply gave away his sarcasm. Jim saluted as he headed towards the bridge.

“Spock,” Dr. McCoy began. “Now that you’ve confirmed the identification of our guest, I just wanted to set a few ground rules. As much as I can tell you’re not going to leave her side for the entirety of her stay, I need to do further testing and she needs a significant amount of rest. That’s why I requested for you to finish out your shift tonight. However, afterwards, when she has been stabilized and given a thorough lookin’-over, you can come back and sit with her as long as you like. I do have to prohibit physical contact of any kind between the two of you, and I will have to ask you to leave if she wakes and becomes upset.” He sighed and scratched the back of his head.

“You might have been together at one point in time, but this is a different woman. We don’t know what life was like for her and we don’t know how she’s going to take learning that she went back four years in time to a reality where she died. It sure won’t feel like Kansas when she comes to.

“I know it’s hard, but everything will come in stride. We just need to be careful with her.”

“I understand. I will return after the completion of my shift.”

“I know you won’t be a minute late.” At that, the two parted ways.

* * *

Spock’s duty on the bridge illogically seemed to drag on forever. He could not seem to stay focused, his thoughts continually drifting back on Nyota; both the one he knew and the one down in medbay. He sifted through their interactions, chronicling their relationship.

_Her first encounter with him had his head tilting in admiration. She outwardly debated with him in class. He had been discussing the melodramatic religious practices of a newly discovered primitive alien species on a class M planet; the topic in particular was the species’ belief in reincarnation, that upon death, the soul of the deceased being would be transferred to a new body. When he categorized their belief as highly illogical, a slender brown arm shot in the air. He called on her, and she responded passionately._

_“Sir, I must disagree with your judgment.” Her eyes met his with confidence._

_“On what grounds, Cadet?”_

“ _Sir, you claimed that the life form’s belief in reincarnation was illogical, deeming that such an act is impossible. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle once said ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’ I agree that one cannot come back from the dead, but the species in question have given accurate accounts of other tribe members that did not exist in their lifetimes, from a first person perspective, as if they_ _had experienced the encounters themselves. This suggests that their experiences in reincarnation are valid._

“ _Additionally, according to their religious mythology, their sacred symbol, a large tree that is symbiotic with the rest of the planet life, is believed to be the keeper of souls until a new vessel has been created. Considering their linguistic differentiation between other plant life and this particular tree, and also the use of terms closely related to the standard ‘soul’, it is not inconceivable to believe that the beings actually have a detachable soul, safeguarded and nurtured by the sacred tree until it can be reimplanted. Such a notion would be just as believable, to some extent, as the knowledge that Vulcans, through their psyonic abilities and connections, have a collective conscious.” The lecture hall was dead silent for a moment, everyone shocked at her bold difference._

“ _An interesting use of antiquated detective fiction, Cadet. I find your reasoning rationally sound, and commend you for looking deeper into the material than was expected.” With that he dismissed the class, and was pleased to have the challenge that Cadet Uhura would give his classroom. With the slightest twitch of his lips, he smiled. He had become so accustomed to the non-stimulating discussions that often defined his interactions with humans. After that initial conversation, he began to look forward to all of his dealings with the young Cadet._

As he moved through the mundane duties of his shift, he continued his rumination of their relationship. Yet, with every eidetic memory he surfaced, it only made him more impatient to finish his shift. Her voice was the first thing to distract him. He could hear her heartiness of her laughter, the wildness of her frustration, the breathiness of her moans… It would be wise to think of something else, lest he become embarrassed by his physiological responses to these memories.

Finally, he gave his report to his replacement, and he and the rest of the alpha crew left the bridge. As he neared the med bay, a strong sense of anticipation and anxiety washed over him. Some muffled shouts echoed down the hallway and he quickened his pace. When the doors slid open at his approach, he was shocked at the sight before him. Nyota, in a white medical gown that in its bulk, still could not hide her graceful figure, was in hand to hand combat with six medical personnel, while a stressed Dr. McCoy was prepping tranquilizer hypo. She danced around the others in eerily perfect Suus Mahna, taking them down swiftly and blocking the doctor’s attempt to sedate her. Spock only stood for a moment before he reacted, coming up behind her just as she was about to break Dr. McCoy’s humerus. A quick nerve pinch at the base of her neck sent her crumpling to the floor, but not without the contact sending a jolt through Spock. There was something else that he felt with her… it was the strangest sensation, something he’d never felt the likes of in his life, almost like a humming vibration. He and the doctor made eye contact, their heavy breaths echoed throughout the bay from the scuffle. Leonard nodded towards him and Spock returned the gesture.

The doctor bent to Nyota’s limp body on the floor. “You didn’t kill her, did you?” he asked, a stern expression on his face. He felt for her pulse and sighed.

“Certainly not, Doctor. I assure you that I only used enough psy energy to merely render her unconscious. Would you please explain to me--”

“What in God’s name just happened? I was hoping you had the answer. Help me get her to the bed.”

Spock sat on the chair next to Nyota's bed.  She was resting peacefully, although he hated to see the leather restraints holding her to the bed frame. His eyes traced her features over and over. Her dark hair fell beautifully over her shoulders, it had been taken out of its ponytail and she looked much more relaxed. He compared the Nyota that he knew to the one before him. This woman was much more mature than what he remembered, although a softness of the young woman he knew lingered beneath. The beautiful curve of her small ears; the fullness of her lips; the elegant length of her neck. When thinking about the details Dr. McCoy divulged, it almost seemed difficult to believe that the woman before him was able to incapacitate so many people.

Dr. McCoy was expecting her to experience a massive headache when she regained consciousness as a symptom of her neurological trauma, he was even expecting delirium. However, he was surprised when she was instantly frightened and became combative. Considering the nature of her injury and possibly her confusion at being aboard the Enterprise, Spock was not astonished. What troubled him most was her choice of martial arts during her combat. It almost made him uneasy at her mastery of Suus Mahna. Spock turned to the most logical explanation: it must be that in her reality, she and his own counterpart had bonded and at some point in time, she had acquired skill in his peoples’ martial art. That would also give rise to the nature of her illness and to his recognition of a bond when she first came through the singularity. His hands came to rest under his chin. He felt warm, almost sick with his revelation. He continued his study; she looked so very tired.

After a few hours, she was becoming restless… whimpering in her sleep. Dr. McCoy rationalized that the sedative was wearing off. Spock continued his vigil. Eventually, a mix of languages was muttered softly under her breath. At first, it was unintelligible Swahili; its cadences were laced with tension. When sounds became words, he heard her say “We will meet again.” The strain of that simple sentence initiated a series of convulsions; her body began seizing, limbs flailing against the restraints. It was difficult to watch someone he knew experience something so unnerving, and he was grateful when Dr. McCoy came in to the room. Nyota’s body had stopped jerking, but she began to bleed from her ears and nose again. The doctor grabbed a white piece of gauze and dabbed at the red fluid seeping from her ears. Just as before, an off-white ring was present around the absorbed droplet of blood.

A full day passed this way. She would murmur in Swahili, she would convulse, and blood would run trickle out of her nose and ears. Hour after hour he tried to discern anything else of meaning from the language streaming from her subconscious mind. Finally, his ears perked in recognition. She was speaking Vulkhansu; and she spoke it beautifully and with such emotion, it brought an ache to his chest. “I am sorry. I am so sorry,” she repeated over and over.

He wanted to go to her, to ease her pain and hold her in his arms, but he was uncertain how physical contact would affect her. He settled with an attempt to sooth her with a vocal response. “Nyota…” he started, still uncomfortable with saying her name. At the sound of his voice, her body stilled. In recognition, perhaps?

“Spohk?” The monitor at her bedside beeped to signal an elevation in her heart rate. “Please… please don’t leave me.” His heart nearly broke at how small her voice had become. What had happened to them?

“Be at peace. I will not leave your side.” A single tear slid down her cheeks, but she seemed to calm in response to his voice. Occasionally, she would begin to cry. At some point, Spock succumbed to exhaustion and settled in deep meditative reflection.

 


	3. Chapter 2

Before she opened her eyes or became fully conscious, her senses slowly returned to her. She could feel a cold wetness on her cheeks and streaks on her neck; she’d been crying, then. After peeling her eyes apart, every single lash seemed to be stuck together, her eyes adjusted; she could make out his form. He was meditating. A small smile played on her lips and she reached to push her hair behind her shoulders, only to discover that she could only lift her hand a couple inches. She looked down at the restraints and called to him through their bond. / _Spohk_./ A torturous pain filled her psyche and her head fell against the pillow with a yelp. “ _Spohk_ ”she called, vocalizing his name. “ _It was only a dream._ Thank god.” Instantly, he came to her bedside, his mannerisms awkward, hesitant. She reached for him again through their bond, growling at the pain, and meeting his gaze with a terrified confusion in her eyes. “ _I cannot feel you, yet you stand mere meters from me. Why can I not feel you?_ ” She cried, desperately trying to reach him with her mind. She began to squirm in pain with her effort. She was so confused, if it was all a dream…?

Instantly, her body froze. “ _Did I lose it?_ ” She asked in a small voice, insurmountable fear laced her question. She looked into his eyes; he was so stoic, so distant. There was no familiarity towards her presence in his posture. She hadn’t seen him behave this way around her in years. He seemed almost confused at her query; more so, he looked uncertain of what to say. Her eyes widened in horror at his silence, and she turned to look down over her chest; hands desperately straining against the leather straps. The pit of her stomach bottomed out and a hole seemed to rip into her chest. Tears were spilling over her lashes now; she could feel herself hyperventilating in rapid, shaky breaths. “Oh God,” she whimpered in standard. Her bottom lip was quivering and she wept earnestly.

Nyota absolutely did not want to accept that reality alone. She needed his comfort and used the rest of her strength to reach to where he always was in her mind; she could even feel the strain of her wrists against the restraints, desperately trying to grab a hold of him, leather cutting into her skin. As she strained for contact, her hearing left her but she could vaguely feel herself screaming. The sight of Leonard rushing into the room was the last thing she saw before she started seizing.

* * *

“Nyota? Nyota, can you hear me?” Someone was shouting in her ear and an agonizing, bright light burned her retinas; she could vaguely see the grumpy features of her friend.

“I can hear you, Len.” She swatted him away, glad that she was no longer restrained. She blinked back the spots in her vision and rubbed her eyes. At her new freedom, she slid her hands up to the sides of her head and squeezed as she sat up, resting her elbows on her knees. She was silent for a moment, finding relief in the pressure. “I am… confused.” She said to her lap, before looking up at the two men; the sadness she felt manifested itself as a frown on her face. “I watched you die,” her intense gaze met Spock’s then traveled to Leonard, “yet here you are.” Her voice quivered. She looked back at Spock, tears falling down her cheeks again. “But I felt the _pap’il’ay_ …” Her brows furrowed. The look on her husband’s face was something she’d never seen before: a mix of excitement, concern, and understanding.

Leonard cut through the tension, the look on his face seemed to express he just wanted to avoid the conversation at hand. “Well, darlin’,” he began, leaning with both hands against the bed rails. When Nyota turned to him, he continued. “Can you tell me what the stardate is?”

“How long have I been here?” She could see that he was assessing her for neurological damage, but it was a silly question to ask her if she was unable to account for time while being unconscious.

“About two days.”

“Two days!?” Nyota was shocked, but began to process the information. “Then it has to be 2264.157.” Her response was rather matter-of-fact, she was confident in her answer, and wanted to prove that she hadn’t sustained any cognitive injuries. Regardless, her head was killing her.

“Oh boy,” Leonard sighed, crossing his arms as he turned towards Spock. “Well, Commander, you want to handle this one?”

“What?” Nyota asked anxiously. “Spock?” She turned to her husband and silently pleaded for an answer.

“Lieutenant Uhura,” Spock said as he approached the bed, an odd inflection in his voice. His hands remained behind his back. As familiar with him as she was, his body language did not go unnoticed and neither did the formality of his address. He did not come to comfort her, his hands never appearing from behind him. He stood ramrod straight; his posture did not indicate any intimacy between them. She noted that he stopped by her feet and looked at her without a trace of recognition. His distance had her breathing rapidly. Whatever he was about to say, she didn’t think she was going to like it. After what seemed an eon of silence, he continued. “Two days, thirteen hours, and thirty-six minutes ago, we received a report of a ‘lightning storm’ on the edge of Federation space. When we arrived at the coordinates, we discovered that an emergency pod had travelled through a black hole. Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy and I retrieved the vessel and found you in critical condition.”

“Oh God,” her trembling hands covered her face and she took a deep, shaky breath. Her head shook back and forth in disbelief. “It wasn’t a dream, then…” her voice was so small. She shuddered as she relived her last conscious moments drifting in space. The explosion from the Enterprise most certainly jostled the red matter… she must not have been far enough away to escape its pull. “I watched you die… and the red matter… it was all for nothing.” She sniffled and wiped the tears away from under her eyes. The air grew uncomfortable, and in a way, lonely. It seemed that they had no idea what to say to her. Yet, how could they comfort her? They had no idea what she went through, what she lost. But where was she now?

“So,” she began, wanting to break the silence with something other than the sounds of her choking breaths and sniffles. She made her voice strong, in an effort to feel that way herself. “I’m on the Enterprise, I can see that; but, what I really want to know is _when_ I am. What _is_ the stardate?” She looked between the two men before her.

“The current stardate is 2260.45.” The information came from Spock; she knew he wouldn’t lie.

Nyota’s gaze went far away as she processed the news. The room started to spin and nausea was a roaring tempest in her stomach. “Now I understand why you both look so confused…” She lay in a contracted position, trying to soothe her abdomen. When she spoke again, there was a sad tone in her voice. “I’m up on the bridge, aren’t I?”

The two men raised eyebrows at each other. Leonard inhaled deeply, and sat down on the foot of her bed. “Nyota, darlin’, you were killed in action.”

“What?!” Her eyebrows furrowed and her gaze turned to ice. “When?!”

“Stardate 2258.42—there was a war criminal. A Romulan—“ Dr. McCoy began, sympathy dripping in every word.

“Nero? The Battle of Vulcan?—No! I… I was on the Enterprise! I –“

“No.” Spock stepped forward, the monotony of his voice seemed forced, emotions fighting to spill through. “You were not.”

Nyota stared at him with hurt. “No. You changed your mind. I was on th—“

“Nyota.” He interrupted her. She could see the pain in his eyes. “I… I failed you.”

At his admission, her shaky breaths turned into sobs. Her body tensed, her knuckles were turning white at the force of gripping the white blankets. Tears began to clump her lashes together and the breath she had been holding made a shaky escape. “Leonard, I need to speak with you in private, please.” The doctor nodded to Spock, and a moment later, the Commander left the room, apologizing in Vulcan. As soon as the door slid shut, she calmed herself and commanded the computer to soundproof the room. “I was pregnant.” It seemed silly that she had soundproofed the room when she gave this statement in barely a whisper. She turned to meet Leonard in a fearful gaze. Her eyes were pleading for any confirmation that she still was, that their baby was safe and had survived _pap’il’ay_. His eyes bled sorrow at his understanding, but his silence ate at her core. She tried to smother her fear by biting down on her quivering lip, hoping the pain would drown out the deafening stillness.

He padded her legs as he stood up. “How many weeks were you?” He scrambled around the room, grabbing equipment from various drawers and cabinets.

“I was about nine weeks along…” Leonard sat down on the bed again, this time more towards her waist.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to her gown. Nyota nodded, and he gently pulled up the hem to reveal her stomach. “Sorry,” he apologized as he squirted a cold gel onto her skin. When he finished, he placed one of the specialized scanners he grabbed onto her stomach. It took a moment to analyze and register, and then, the most beautiful rhythm Nyota had ever heard projected from the machine. A quick, but steady, thump-thump was amplified from the speakers. A second later, the smallest little being she had ever seen appeared onto the view screen. “Looks like you’ve got a healthy little bun in the oven.” At his confirmation, a breath Nyota was unaware she held burst from her lungs in joyous sobs. Somewhere far away, she could feel Len was smoothing the end of the gown back under the sheets, but all she could do was sit there and cry. She still had their baby. Spock would live on through it.

At his memory, she began to cry in earnest; broken by his loss. She felt the bed dip down and a warm body envelope her, stroking her back and soothing her. “Damn it, woman... I’m a doctor, not an interspecies geneticist.” Laughter burst through her tears. She held him tighter, and with a smile on her face gave a reply.

“Of course you’re not ready for this, Len. This was three years in the making with the best Vulcan geneticists in the field.”

“I don’t even know where to begin on prenatal care for the critter.” He sat back and ran a hand through his hair. “How does this even work?”

“The fetus will carry to a normal human term, but will develop at a slightly faster rate than a human. I’m supposed to be taking a supplement to avoid complications with nutrient diffusion across the blood barrier—human blood is iron based and Vulcan copper.”

“Do you remember who those Vulcan geneticists were? I wouldn’t know what exactly to give in that kind of supplement, but since you’ve only gone four years into the past, I’m sure that those scientists are still out and about and can whip you up something in a jiffy.” Nyota nodded at his insight. Even though she was trapped in a past that she no longer lived in, things didn’t feel as hopeless as she thought. She was only thanking her lucky stars that she hadn’t gone back more than a century, like Ambassador Spock.

“That reminds me,” she began. McCoy just looked at her. “I need a communications terminal. Do you think we’re in range to contact New Vulcan?”

“I’m a doctor—“

“—Not a communications officer.” She finished for him.

“Right. We picked you up near the edge of Federation space, but I know that we’ve been en route back to Earth.”

“Good. I’ll send a subspace transmission out as soon as I can.” They sat there together for a moment, enjoying the shift in silence.

“Does… does Spock know?”

“No. And he can’t know. I don’t know this Spock, much less do I think he’s ready to learn he’s become a father thirty minutes after a dead girlfriend jumps through space time and wakes up.” She tried to laugh and keep the atmosphere light, but she choked up a little. “He has no obligations to us.”

“I see.” McCoy said as he began to sit up. “Well, we’ll do this at your pace, darlin’.” He gave a moment’s pause before he continued. “Can you explain to me what all has been happening? What was it you were talking about earlier? Paperlay?”

A sad smile spread across her lips. “ _Pap’il’ay_ is the Vulcan term for severance of the marriage bond. A side effect of such an occurrence is called _tel-has-mar,_ bond sickness. It should have killed me by now.” Leonard reached over and held her hand, recognizing the delicacy of the subject. “I’m surprised I’m not dead… it must be because of the baby.”

“Well, that would sure explain the neurogenic shock you’ve been experiencing and few close calls we’ve had. Your vitals have stabilized, and your baby is fine, but I can’t authorize you to leave medbay until I can be certain that you won’t have any more seizure episodes.”

“I’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen. I plan to contact the other Spock to see if he would be willing to support me in pseudo-bond therapy. I have a feeling he would be open to such a suggestion. Once connection has been reestablished, I should not have as great a risk.”

“Let me know what you find out, and if you can arrange such treatment. When I see that you’re making progress, I can arrange with the Captain for you to stay in a visitor’s suite. There’s a console on the wall. You can use it to contact your people.”

“Thanks, Len.” He gave a light squeeze to her shoulder, and left the room.

Nyota let out a deep breath, centering herself. She didn’t want to look like the sad case that she was when she spoke to elder Spock. Lying there alone, she hardly felt human… She looked around the sterile room and saw a brush, a small basin of water, and a wash cloth on the bedside table. After drying off her face, she conquered the knots in her hair. She was starting to feel more like herself, and she was grateful that she didn’t have the appearance of someone who just got blasted to a different reality when she made the subspace call.

She opened the communications terminal and found that New Vulcan was within reach. As she started the connection, a pit formed in the bottom of her stomach. When the aged visage of a Vulcan appeared on screen, her fears dissipated into the recesses of her mind.

“Nyota… a pleasant surprise, my friend. You are someone I had never thought I would see again.”

_“Ambassador, seeing a familiar face brings great comfort in my time of grief.”_

At her words, Spock’s eyes softened. _“How can I be of assistance?”_

 


	4. Chapter 3

**Nyota**

A sleepless, medically uneventful night passed in medbay. Nyota cried and cried and cried; until there were no tears to shed, her throat was dry, and her sinuses congested. It was hard to quietly grieve the loss of your husband… and she tried her hardest to hide such vulnerability whenever Leonard came to check in on her, but the control was so exhausting, she wanted more than anything to have her own space and just let go. When morning came, she demanded to be moved to private quarters. It was a swift, and easily won battle. She simply let slip some of her strength, exposing the despair beneath, and she could nearly hear her doting doctor’s heart breaking at the lost look on her face. By mid-afternoon, her belongings were packed, and she was escorted into the Admiral Suite.

Secluding herself seemed like a good idea. There was no one she wanted to see, save for the Doctor, or the Ambassador, when he made his arrival. There were too many lives she remembered dying on this ship.

Nyota had all of her meals replicated in the suite. Food from the machine always tasted off, but now, everything was ash in her mouth. Nothing could ease her loss of appetite, but she knew that she had to eat, if not for herself, then for the baby. Her heart broke more at the thought. It wasn’t that she wasn’t overjoyed to hear that the fetus survived, it was the reality that her Spock would never experience the thrills of new parenting with her. He would never feel their baby kick, see it born, speak its first words, take its first step, or grow up. With that thought, the emptiness of the room left her feeling hollow and alone. She headed towards the bathroom, seeking comfort in the smaller space.

As she entered, she refused to look at her reflection in the mirror. She could feel how haggard she looked; she didn’t want or need a visual confirmation of her condition. After she turned on the faucet for the shower, she began to gingerly slide out of her clothes. Her soft hands rested upon the smooth planes of her stomach. She wasn’t showing yet, and she wouldn’t for some time, but she wanted to reach out to her little one, assuring it that no matter what, they would get through this together. Eventually, Nyota would become strong enough to be the best for the both of them, but now wasn’t the time, and tears threatened her vision. She stepped under the spray and sank to the floor, bringing her knees to her chest and curling around herself. The needle pricks of the water over her body were soothing in her pain; she felt hollow on the outside, but the burning sensation on her skin assured her she was still whole on the outside. Nyota didn’t move and finally, wept openly. Her tears were washed off her face and the sound of her cries was muffled by the echo of the water in the room.

_Nyota gripped Spock’s hand tightly while the Vulcan doctor began her pelvic examination. Gynecological tables were always uncomfortable, and the room was sterile. Her human physician soothingly had a holovid of rambunctious puppies on the ceiling above the examination table in order to ease the patient; but, such sentiments would be illogical to a Vulcan, the exam being necessary and all, she supposed. She sighed and looked over the paper blanket around her waist as the doctor scooted away._

_“The embryo successfully implanted and the body is not activating any immunoresponse towards the cells. However, we will continue to monitor your condition closely over the next few weeks so that we may be certain there are no complications. Until then, I advise against any rigorous or strenuous activity to ensure the safety of the embryo until further notice.” The doctor made eye contact with both of them and bid them congratulations before slightly bowing and taking her leave._

_The young couple returned home and Spock prepared a feast of Nyota’s favorite foods. They ate in excitement, talking about all the endless possibilities of the future ahead. Would their baby be a girl or a boy? What would they name it? Would they like to carry out their naternity leave on New Vulcan or on Earth? Would it have psionic capabilities like Spock? Who would it look like? When they had happily reached their fill, Spock shooed Nyota out of the dining room, instructing her to relax while he cleaned the table and dishes. With a loving kiss and a hard look, she consented and left the room._

_With a bright smile on her face, she pulled the hem of her shirt up to her bra line and looked at herself in the mirror. Her stomach was flat and toned; after all, she was only four weeks along. She began to hum and delicately placed her hands over the low part of her abdomen. Tears prickled her eyes and she began to turn this way and that, her long skirt twirled with the motion. She tried seeing if there was any kind of difference in her appearance and imagined how big her belly would swell later on. She wiped her eyes and noticed Spock leaning against the door frame, he made his way over to her then, coming behind her and sliding his arms around her waist to caress her abdomen as well. Nyota placed one hand over his, and reached the other up behind his neck, watching their reflection in the mirror. He was crying, too._

“I cherish thee, Nyota” _, he professed, bringing his forehead to the crook of her neck, and kissing the soft skin of her shoulder. She smiled brighter, sniffled, then turned around to face him, hands caressing up his arms to cradle his face and bring their foreheads together._

_Slowly, he reached to place one of her hands on his shoulder, and moved his to the small of her back. When he held her other hand in the the_ oz'hesta _, the most beautiful music fluttered through her mind. He began to twirl her around in a slow waltz, making their way out of the bathroom, dancing throughout their humble New Vulcan home. Nyota could feel Spock's happiness through their bond, and couldn't help but smile at the fuzzy feeling he was broadcasting. She had never experienced him this happy before. He was even smiling in a big grin that stole her breath away. She couldn't help but laugh and taste the rare expression on his lips._

_When the music quieted, they found themselves in their bedroom, and energy of another sort flowed between their bond. Beaming, Nyota stood on her tip toes to place a kiss over his soft lips. She couldn't contain her happiness either, and she began to step around him, resting her hands lovingly over his chest. Before she could move away, however, Spock gently grasped her wrists and pulled her closer to him. The chaste kiss she had given to him was returned with nothing short of fire._

_She smiled into his lips as he pressed them against hers, but her smile quickly faded as his tongue began an intricate dance with hers. “Spohk,” she breathed and slightly pulled away. At the new distance, he shifted his attention to her neck, nibbling and laving at the long column of skin exposed by neckline of her blouse. The sensation made her sag against him, and he growled in approval, her body flush with his; she reveled in feeling every prominent inch, every hard contour of his form. Soon, he trailed his hands around her body and cupped a breast. He was using psyonic energy to set her nerves ablaze and she moaned. Her hands cradled his head against her neck, where he began to lightly bite the mark he'd made years ago. Battling against her quick breaths, she finally pulled him away far enough for him to meet her gaze. “_ You heard the doctor; no strenuous activity.” _Nyota let out a controlled sigh to attempt to steady her breaths. “_ If we have to be abstinent for the rest of my pregnancy, you are only making things worse for the both of us.”

_A devil of a smirk she'd never seen before curved his lips and filled his eyes with mirth and mischief. Spock's hands cupped her cheeks, weary of her psy-points, and he kissed her deeply. He stepped back to hold her gaze and then slide the material of her blouse over her head, and down her arms. He made short work of her bra, after._

_When she stood bare before him, his forehead rested against hers, as his eyes continued to appraise her body. Slowly, his hands came to caress the hard planes of her clavicles and her skin prickled at the touch._ “Do not worry, k'diwa,” _he began,_ “I will ascertain that you do not undergo any strenuous activity.” _After a full kiss on the mouth, he continued. “_ I want to show you how perfect you are--.”

“--Perfection is illogical, adun.”

“Nothing about you ever has been. You are always a matter governed entirely by my heart.” _He kissed her again, this time, gently lying her down on the bed._ “You are a wonderous being, S'chn T'gai Nyota. A goddess in your beauty, a warrior in your strength, a saint in your kindness,” _he gently removed her skirt and then began working at divesting himself of his own clothing. “_ You have never held so much power over me as you do now, as the mother of my child.” _Spock's hands trailed soothing circles over the butterflies dancing in her stomach, then gently slipped her underwear down her legs. When his weight settled above her, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. “_ Let me show you extent of my adoration for you, my love.” _Nyota could feel her heart churning with emotion and the sensation was distorting her face, her eyebrows were curled up, her eyes were watering, her lips were slightly turned down, and quivering, but she could feel the happiness from his gaze. His soft hand wiped another errant tear from the corner of her eye; she placed her forehead against his cheek and nodded, a smile bursting onto her countenance. Slowly, he brushed her hair behind her ear, and placed her right hand in his, curling her knuckles against his lips before sliding their index and middle fingers together._

_Spock's eyes never wandered from her's, as he fully lowered himself on to her, and the feeling of his anticipation to their coupling through their_ ozh'esta _had her more than aroused. His right hand approached her temple and she moaned. He spoke the ritual words against her lips, drinking in her audible pleasure. “_ My mind to your mind; my thoughts to your thoughts.”

_They cried out in unison as everything he was, was pushed inside of her, the heady weight of his body on her frame, the fulfilling stretch of his_ lok _in her core, and the pleasurable pressure of his psyche mingled with hers. The pace he set was slow, and titillating; he was going to make sure her body was worshiped, tonight. The positioning of his pubic bone ground against the delicate nub of nerves at her center. It was frustrating, maddening. She pulled at the firm globes of his behind, tried lifting her hips to meet his at a faster pace, but his resolve prevailed. Nyota growled, and she heard a chuckle rise up his throat, but the tempo dragged on. “_ Patience, k'diwa,” _he whispered through a smile._

_Irked, she tore her mouth from his. He could feel the ire building inside her through their bond, so he stilled his motions to meet her eyes with concern.“If you don't make me come right now, I swear to you that I won't make love to you again until after this baby is born.” Her voice was commanding in its challenge—and in Standard, nonetheless. She had never been so forward or demanding of him before. Maybe it was her raging hormones doing the talking? Spock resumed his agonizing pace and she vocalized his name in warning. Suddenly, his mouth moved to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and she tensed, sensing what he was about to do next._

_When his blunt teeth bit hard against her flesh, she finally felt the stimulation she needed to push her over the edge. Her body had its own will as she crested; her hips convulsed, forcing her back to arch her body flush against his, her toes curled and flexed, and sensation exploded across their bond. Her muscles contracted around his body, desperately trying to pull him in farther and her eyes glazed over as she cried his name._

* * *

Nyota had just started to boil water for tea when her door chimed. When she answered, there he was, a man that she knew still existed in her reality. He was exactly the same as she remembered him; his studious posture, aged face, peppered hair, and knowing eyes.

“ _Ambassador, please, come in.”_ An emotional relief welled in her stomach.

“ _Lieutenant Uhura,”_ He bowed, as she ushered him in.

She chuckled as she closed the door behind them. “ _I have long surpassed the rank of lieutenant, and I would rather do away with formalities. Please, call me Nyota.”_ Ambassador Spock smiled in that secret way she had only been able to detect with years of familiarity. It sent an ache through her heart, and she stared into his eyes with errant reminiscence. When she realized what she was doing, she simply cleared her throat and offered him some tea, which he kindly accepted.

When they were both seated at the table, he spoke. _“Please, tell me more of your situation. You were only able to divulge so little on the subspace communications.”_

Nyota nodded, and solemnly began. “We were married for five years, just after the Khan incident.” She paused for a moment, and he nodded for her to continue. “We were serving our fifth year aboard the Enterprise when we were attacked. Spock ejected my escape pod, and self-destructed the ship to propel me away form the red matter. But I was sucked into the singularity anyway.” She paused for a moment, holding back a quivered sigh. “Where I'm from, the stardate is 2264.”

“And you have not yet succumbed to _tel-has-mar_? _”_ He asked quietly.

“No.” Nyota felt tears start to swell in her vision. “There have been some close calls, but... not yet, at least.”

“You seem to be faring well, considering--”

“--I'm pregnant, Ambassador.” With her admission, she felt a relief off her chest, but she grew anxious in the silence that stretched before them. She hesitantly looked up to meet his gaze. If she didn't know better, she would think that he was just looking at her with curiosity. But she did know better, and the awe and bewilderment was so open to her. “I can't tell him. He can't know.” At this, the elder Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “I don't know this Spock. And regardless of the fact that I'm in an alternate universe where he's still alive, I'm grieving the loss of my husband, suffering the loss of my bond, and worried about my unborn child.”

Ambassador Spock gave a silent nod in resolution. “ _Then let us not delay your healing any further.”_ Nyota nodded, and wiped her tears away.

They moved over to the living room, and sat in the traditional meditative posture, legs crossed and back straight. “ _Please,”_ the Ambassador began as Nyota reached to light the _asenoi_ , “ _Allow me.”_ Nyota gave a small smile and rested back into the proper position. After a few deep breaths, he asked if she was ready. When she gave him her answer, she heard the familiar words, “ _My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts,”_ and felt the weight of his aged hand resting against her psy-points.

She cried out at the sensation, sobbing in relief. It was nothing like the intensity of her marriage bond. No. Nothing could ever compare to that. But this was so relieving... she felt instantly exhausted; like she'd been fighting so hard to stay strong without Spock, and now... Her body felt taxed, depleted now that she finally seemed to catch some rest. While relishing in the mind meld, she felt her body slump against the ambassador. Instantly, she felt embarassed.

/ _Be at ease, Nyota./_ His quiet voice flitted through her mind and she relaxed again. / _If you are able, please show me the_ pap'il'ay./ Nyota steeled herself at his request, but led him down a corridor in her mind. They turned to a door on the end. It was an antique door—the old wooden kind with a golden nob—but the wood was burned, scorched in areas, and splintering. Ashes seemed to be flaking off and blowing away like snow in an invisible wind.

The ambassador was very careful and considerate to not let his being broadcast through the bond, shielding his emotions from her. But as she turned to open the door and guide him into the most horrific memory in her life, she could feel a slight hesitation. Nyota couldn't imagine what this must be like for him. What all could he feel from the bond? Would he be able to divine Spock's own thoughts, ones he had shielded from her? How damaging would it be to feel yourself dying?

He broke her train of thought with a wave of his acceptance, not unlike the feeling she last received from her husband. / _Kaiidth,/_ he told her. She softened at the familiar phrase, feeling the other Surakian proverbs that he was thinking. _The spear in the other's heart, is the spear in your own... Offer them peace, then you will have peace..._ The ambassador's thought pattern was certainly different from her Spock's. His was more proverbial, a nod to his extensive training in _kolinahr_ and study of Surak. Her husband's were a little more carefree, yet still retaining his logic. The feeling of the ambassador passing through the doorway brought her out of her reverie, and suddenly—Fire.

\--It seemed to be over as soon as it began, yet lasting an eternity all the same. The familiar surroundings of her quarters appeared through blurred vision. She was hyperventilating—crying freely, doubled over, and latched onto the form across from her. Gentle hands held her shoulders, but she could feel them shaking as well. Nyota tried to calm herself down, slowing the hiccups, and in the silence, could hear him softly weeping.

“I'm so sorry,” Nyota choked out, standing and stepping away from him to grab some tissues and offer them to the elder man before her. She had never seen Spock so emotionally broken.

He sat there another moment, struggling to compose himself. “Emotional transference is an effect of the mind meld,” he announced. When he stood to his full height, he looked at her with such sincerity. _“It is I who am truly sorry. I grieve with thee, Nyota.”_ He brought her in for a brief hug, and made his way to the entrance, stating his need for private meditation and noting the late hour. He informed her that such therapy would most likely need to be repeated and gladly offered his services for whenever she had need of them. Nyota thanked him repeatedly, and gave him the consolation that she was already starting to feel better. At her door, he raised his hand in the _ta'al_ , and bid her “goodnight”, parting words that she had never heard him speak before while giving the traditional salute—the sentiment made her smile. She returned his gesture, and the door closed quietly behind him. Nyota turned back to the emptiness of the room, already missing his presence. She walked over to the still-lit fire pot and silently sank to the floor, still feeling the hollowness of her _tel-has-mar,_ but a little less-so than before.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (1)Dahshal s'ash-veh heh worla dashal- Parted from me, but never parted.


End file.
